


Finding James Bond

by CaptainJake



Category: 007 - Fandom, James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Suicide mention, Swearing, cursing, lots of angst tbh, no editing we die like men, why am i like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 00:53:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11264622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainJake/pseuds/CaptainJake
Summary: 007 disappears after a mission which would be considered normal since the man would do anything he can to avoid writing a damned mission report. However, he hasn't disappeared just to escape from his responsibilities this time. It seems that the guilt, pressure and grief of his job and life has finally caught up with 007 and Q needs to go save him.No homo though.(lmao jk)(in all seriousness, this is probably gonna be two chapters long? enjoy the gay I guess. Be warned though, this fic contains a suicide attempt and some swearing!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finding Nemo chapter 3: finding james bond 
> 
> My jokes are lame I'm so sorry

Tension could be cut with a knife at the MI6. M had just stormed out of his personal office to the IT department, asking everyone about the whereabouts of a certain knucklehead who had disappeared just after a mission without writing his report, or going to the medical department. Q grimaced as he watched one of his coworkers get screamed at by M. Why was he so pissed off anyway? It was perfectly normal for James to run away from writing reports, because just like the rest of the Double O's, he was a reckless, lazy sod. Honestly, Q had no idea why they hired those people. 

Finished with scolding his poor coworker, M walked over to Q with a sharp gaze. The Quartermaster sighed in annoyance as he knew what was coming next. He was 007's Quartermaster, he HAD to know where the hell he blasted off to!! Not. It was hard enough for Q to catch up with him during a mission thanks to Bond's habit to give sarcastic remarks instead of useful information about his target and surroundings, now he was supposed to know where he'd be after missions too?! Bullshit. 

He sighed again at the thought, while M stared him down like it would make him talk. He'd love to talk to his so-very-lovely and extremely pissed boss about where the fuck that idiot of an agent blasted off to, but you see; he had no idea either. So before M could speak, Q interrupted him. 

"Look, I know you all seem to think I have this magical telepathic bond with 007 that somehow lets me know where in the world he storms off to every damn time he has to write a report, but I don't. And-- yes, before you ask. I checked if he still had the tracker in him but he doesn't. Bastard must've taken it out while leaving."

M stared at him, mouth half open for a few seconds. Usually, no one was brave enough to talk to him while he was angry and Q knew that too. However, his coffee had been bitter that day and considering that pure caffeine was the only reason Q was energized enough to stand up, he didn't have any shits left to give.

Nodding acceptingly, obviously ashamed, M lowered his head and signed Q to do the same, obviously trying to whisper something to him. The Quartermaster rolled his eyes at this move but scooted closer, listening carefully for what his boss had to say. M whispered grimly;

"There were some... Difficulities with 007's last mission. We believe that he just lost the last person from his past. We have no idea where he is but we do know that he was injured before he disappeared. MI6 can not afford to lose a Double O, so I beg of you; as a friend and as your boss, help me find him."

Taken aback by how grimly the other man spoke, Q raised his eyebrows quizzically. Last person from his past? He knew that 007 was an orphan, it was obvious that he didn't really have friends outside of work and his partners were fleeting anyway, so who could be so important to the ma-- The butler. Q knew that James's old house had a butler and last he checked, he was alive and well. Now that he thought about it, Bond's last mission was significantly close to his old house. 

His old house. 

It had been burned down, yes, but looking at when the house was built and how long it stood there persistently despite the terrible conditions, some part of it must've survived. Even if it didn't, he was quite sure that Bond would go there anyway, considering he wasn't one to judge and be perturbed by his surroundings. 

He snapped his head up, looking right at M. His boss seemed to understand what he needed as he nodded and called for a chopper to go and take him. Just as he finished the call, Q put a hand on the other man's shoulder. 

"Let me go get him. He won't like his boss seeing him in such a state."

"And he'll like seeing you?"

"I don't know, guess we'll have to see."

M sighed in annoyance, but after a brief moment, he agreed. He gave Q a small first aid box and sent him off. 

The trip was going pleasant enough, despite Q's growing worry. He had always been more concerned about 007 in missions than for anyone else. The Quartermaster guessed that the reason was because of his tragic backstory which suggested that the man has severe PTSD and many other problems, or maybe it was because he fancied the agent a bit too much. He shook his head at the thought. He did NOT fancy James Bond. Nope. Being well aware of the agent's past lovers and how those relationships went down, that man was the worst choice of person to fancy. Although, he did notice when he smiled genuinely, and he did love the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, and...

Wait-- no. 

(A/N: Not today, gay thoughts.)

Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked around to see that the view had changed immensely. The tall and slightly intimidating towers had left and given their space to a vast, empty land. There were no buildings, of any sign of life. There were just rocks, dried grass and dirt, dead plants and very rarely, a couple of trees grouped together in the endless field. He shivered out of reflex as he heard harsh wind blow against the helicopter. Shuddering, he noticed that he was definitely not dressed for this occasion and it hit him that he had to walk around in the freezing cold and brutal wind wearing his work clothes and the flimsy jacket he had carelessly threw on before he left. He sighed once more. This was going to go just splendidly, huh?

Remembering that he had a burnt house to spot on the vast field, he started scanning the view. Luckily, after a while he spotted a pile of ash, broken pieces of what used to be an enormous house and a car, possibly stolen. He notified the pilot and fiddled with the hem of his jacket nervously as they slowly got lower and landed shakily. Q felt himself growing even more nervous when he realized that he had no plans whatsoever. How did people make plans for this anyway? No outcome was guaranteed and no matter what you did, sometimes you just couldn't fix the errors. As soon as the door opened, he threw himdelf out of the helicopter, shuddering with the sudden cold amd nausea that hit him as soon as his feet touched the ground. He just looked at the ruins for a second, fiddling his feet and listening to the dry plants under his feet crumble. He told the pilot to stay away until he called him and started walking to be less affected from the wind coming from the helicopter as it rose to the sky once again, the pilot awaiting his sign. 

As he made his way closer to what used to be the agent's home, he noticed a red stain on the ground, dull and hidden behind a couple of leaves the wind blew when he landed. Taking a few steps forward, he saw another one; dried and almosy invisible. As the Quartermaster passed the borders of the house, spotting more and more stains that gradually became bigger, he reached a pile of stones piled together with a flimsy door on them. Its handle was also painted a crimson red, although this stain in particular wasn't dull, it shone, being obviously more recent than the rest of the blood. 

Q gulped. He wasn't sure what he'd see when he opened the door, and he sure as hell wasn't excited about it. Trembling, he reached out his hand to twist the knob while trying to touch as little of the blood as possible. As you may have guessed, that didn't work out well. The Quartermaster sighed as he attempted to clean his hand by rubbing it againt his pants. He was getting more frustrated by the second and was done with trying to keep his hands clean. He held the doorknob tight and opened the door. He was greeted by a pitch black tunnel, one he could only guess was used by popes to hide before the Bond's started living there. Quiet but throaty breaths could be heard from the darkness, but they stopped sharply when Q stepped in the tunnel, his single footstep echoing through. He hesitantly took another step and heard the click of a gun. He cleaned his throat nervously and called out with a shaky voice:

"Bond? It's Q. "

The Quartermaster tediously waited for a reaction or any kind of answer, getting more nervous every given second he didn't receive one. Thinking that he was wasting his time standing there and not doing anything, he continued farther down the tunnel. The dim, cold light that shone from his back was getting weaker as he ventured on, and he was hearing the short, quick breaths again. He wasn't sure what to do but he was sure of one thing: he was going nowhere until he found Bond. Stepping over a bigger stone, he noted that the air was becoming heavy and it was getting harder to breathe as he went deeper in the hellish tunnel. How long was it anyway? Did it lead anywhere? His thoughts were cut off when he almost banged his head on a wall. He stepped back and felt the wall with his hands, sighing in a relieved manner when he understood that there was a turn he had to take. He took the turn and squinted, he could see the dim light of a fire, or candle. It was a stupid move to make that he didn't expect of Bond, he was wasting precious oxygen! Though, he didn't think Bond had any other source of lighting, so it must've been a desperate attempt. 

As he approached the source of the light, he arrived right on the front of a makeshift wall made out of big stones. The light shone from the upper corner of the wall, where there wasn't a stone. The gap was wide enough for him to jump through, but he could just knock the stones over to reach Bond anyway, so there was no point wasting time trying to do that instead. Just as he was about to knock the first stone down, he froze as he doubted everything he had done so far. What if that wasn't James, sitting in complete silence except the breaths of two people, now that Q was also panting because of how heavy the air was. He wanted to call out for him, but stopped himself once again. Instead, he tiptoed to where the gap was and peeked over it. 

Oh no. 

The man was James alright, but it was as clear as day that he wasn't thinking right at the moment. A gun in his hand, he did nothing but loom his other hand over it, running his finger along the edges of the weapon. A metallic noise echoed in the tunnel as he emptied the gun, let the golden bullets simply drop down to the floor and then loaded it again, as if he couldn't hear the other man's breathing from the other side of the wall. His face was covered in sweat and his blood, slowly leaking out of a huge gash on his head. He has an expression of annoyance and excruciating pain which made Q worry more. But he stayed silent. 

He wasn't sure why he was just standing there, watching James repeat the same procedure over and over. He loaded the gun, cocked it, pointed it forward and emptied it once again. The Quartermaster guessed that this was some sort of method that the agent created to calm himself down. He hated admitting it, but he was mesmerized. The way 007 moved without hesitation, repeating the same thing over and over with no errors, not even fidgeting. 

Just as he was about to adress the man, James snickered sarcastically. He then sighed in annoyance, possibly from a conversation he was having with himself as he kept his hands busy on the weapon in his hands. He loaded it once more, but he didn't empty it or point it away this time. He looked deeply at the gun, as if it held the secrets to the purpose of his life. 

Q watched, paralyzed from shock and fear as the other man held the gun up and put it to his own head. His breathing got louder and louder as he shuddered and shivered at the touch of the cold metal against his scalp. The agent cocked the gun slowly, like he was waiting for salvation to come from the dim light of the tiny candle, flickering and luminating his frame; or anything, anyone. 

Once he heard the click of the gun, Q snapped. He had no idea that he could move that fast, or throw himself through the hole like a frantic animal running for his dear life. 

Before James had the chance to understand what was going on, pull the trigger or react in any way, a dark haired Quartermaster fell on him, knocking him and the feeble candle down in the process. As the agent was trying to get used to the dark swallowing both of them in, a fist collided with his face.


	2. Saving James Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH THIS IS LATE. I AM SO SORRY.

"Once he heard the click of the gun, Q snapped. He had no idea that he could move that fast, or throw himself through the hole like a frantic animal running for his dear life. 

Before James had the chance to understand what was going on, pull the trigger or react in any way, a dark haired Quartermaster fell on him, knocking him and the feeble candle down in the process. As the agent was trying to get used to the dark swallowing both of them in, a fist collided with his face."

Q felt himself tense as he kneeled on top of the agent on the floor. His heartbeat was thumping in his ears, making his world shake and shudder as he tried to gain back his composed self, but failed despite his best efforts. Instead, the anger, panic and confusion that had made him pounce on the dazed, surprisingly quiet and raspily breathing agent moments ago took over him once more. Grabbing 007 by the coller, he shook him as best as he could, and even though he was a bit too worn out, the Quartermaster could see the effect it had on the agent. He had his attention, but he wasn't ready to calm down just yet. 

It was as if all his emotions that the younger man had bottled up since the first day he met James Bond were breaking free from their prison. He could feel the tears pouring out of his eyes, warm and salty as he shouted,

"What the bloody FUCK do you think you're doing?!"

Q felt Bond flinch at the tone and snap of his voice, fragile and weak and so...frightened. 

If somebody had told him that the younger man would ever see James Bond, THE James Bond drop his facade in front of someone, especially him; he would've been concerned for the person talking, because they'd have to be insane. But right now, it all seemed too real. He could hear his own shaky breaths as he attempted to choke back the pathetic sobs rising at the back of his throat and the agent's, as out-of-thempo and raggedy as his was. They both stayed quiet for a few seconds because what was there to say?

What could the emotionless, cold, analytic, mathematical genius but socially awkward Quartermaster say to the man he never understood?

An actor who, since the day they met, had never dropped his playboy act? A brilliant and powerful agent who saved lives, countries and stopped wi a baod man? Somebody who was so damaged, so stern on hating the man he became, he couldn't look up from the blood on his hands to the brighter future for thousands he helped create?

And what could that man, James, say to the one person he fancied, but never engaged in any effort to get him in his bed? One he admired for his wisdom, knowledge, determination, wit and personality, yet could never voice it, despite spending years over years whispering loving lies to anyone he deemed useful or a distraction at said moment? The one person he actually wanted to be honest to, but never did? And in their situation, what was there to say to the only person who was there when the act he played was broken? The only person to go through the darkness to save his life, one he decided wasn't worth living?

Both men's thoughts were cut short as James heard a broken sob escape the Quartermaster's mouth and felt warm, salty tears drop on his face. He remained silent as he still had nothing to say, but slowly raised himself up by his elbows and moved upwards so he was sitting. He gently raised his hand and stroked Q's cheek, wiping the tears streaming down his face. Before he could do anything else, the younger male jumped on him once again, but this time, he wrapped his arms around him and held him tight as more sobs made his whole chest shake and tremble. The relief of feeling the agent's heartbeat against his own washed over him as he sighed, 

James Bond was alive.

"I thought I had lost you..."

Q breathed out, his voice cracking as he continued crying, the attempts of keeping his calm completely forgotten. James did not reply, he only adjusted himself as he slowly rubbed circles on the other's back. For once, he didn't feel the need to reply. 

The two stayed like that for what seemed like hours, the Quartermaster's cries getting quieter and his breaths getting slower as the older male wrapped his arms around him as well, breathing in Q's scent and showing a hint of a smile on his face.

Only when James felt Q's shoulders shift did he realize how uncomfortable their current position was. He chuckled softly to himself, he couldn't remember the last time he was this unaware of himself. It was nice. A change of pace, one might call it. Gently nudging the younger man on top of him, he pushed himself up as well to lean on the wall. 

The Quartermaster got off his knees the second he felt the nudge, becoming painfully aware of what he had done. 

Brilliant work, Q, he thought to himself grimly. 

Way to keep the relationship professional. 

He scooted to the wall, leaning back as he tried to find something to say. 

Anything, anything to say before the whole situation got awkward. 

James coughed lightly, shifting his posture to a more comfortable one. 

Fuck, too late. 

"So..." 

The younger man started, waiting a brief moment to calm his breath as he heard the other chuckle once again, strangely playful and carefree. As beautiful as that voice was to his ears, he only felt himself grow more embarassed. He had jumped on the man with little to no shame, why was it so difficult now?!

"W-We should probably get out of here before we die from the lack of fresh air in here." 

The younger man turned beet red as he cursed at himself for stuttering. 

Thank god it was completely dark in the hellish tunnel they were in, or else the utter shame and embarrassment would've increased so much, the lack of air wouldn't be the reason for Q's death. He heard James sigh, sounding almost disappointed that their little moment was over. 

"Yeah. C'mon."

Q felt a wave of relief wash over him as he felt the other man shift and get up, palming the dusty walls of the tunnel they were in to find the way. After a brief moment, James touched the stone wall with the hole, the one Q had just jumped through. Kicking the stones and making the wall crumble, he pushed the bigger ones off their path.

Once he had cleared the road enough for both of them to pass easily, he called out to the Quartermaster, who was still sitting on the floor and contemplating his life desicions, to lend him a hand. 

The dark haired man blindly searched for the other's hand. He feared that James would take the wait as a sign to stop offering help but to his luck, his hand reached and touched the other's in amatter of seconds. 

He walked quietly behind the older, taller man as he observed how the agent's hand felt in his. His skin, marked with years of exercise, scars, brutality felt rough to the touch and yet, his grip was kind and delicate, almost afraid that he'd shatter the Quartermaster like glass if he acted carelessly. 

He was pulled back to the real world when he heard James clear his throat. 

"I assume you'll want to act as if this never happened?"

His voice showed emotion even though Q could sense him trying to keep his calm and stay emotionless. It was clear that James really didn't want this to be some secret memory, forgotten over time and never acted upon. Both men were nervous, even though they'd rather die than admit it. 

The Quartermaster waited for a brief moment before mustering up enough courage to reply the way he wanted to. 

"Actually, I'd prefer if you took me out to dinner instead."

Success!! Not one stutter throughout the whole sentence! The younger man beamed with pride and blushed as he felt the other's hand tighten, James clearly happy about where the conversation was going. 

He smiled widely and nodded as he looked back at his Quartermaster, who was now illuminated by the small light showing at the beginning of the tunnel that they first came in through. The normally stern agent felt his heart flutter as he saw Q return the smile, his eyes shining brightly.

"I can make that happen. How does Sunday sound? I can pick you up anytime."

The Quartermaster smiled even wider, nodding back at the taller man. 

He had a feeling that this would be a start of something quite wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! I'M SO GLAD I FINALLY POSTED THIS, I'VE BEEN FEELING REALLY ANXIOUS ABOUT IT. TELL ME IF YOU SPOT SOME MISTAKES BC I AM PRETTY SURE THAT THERE'S A COUPLE OF EM IN THERE.

**Author's Note:**

> no editing we die like men
> 
> I hope you enjoyed?? I'm writing chapter 2 right now so it'll be out either today or tomorrow. Feel free to like and leave comment and please tell me if I made mistakes!


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